. . .as an actual invited guest.
Can you believe it?
And I’m being nice.
I know! Unprecedented!
I’m sitting there sipping a beverage, doing the everyday, normal party scene. But there’s something unbalanced in the air. Have you ever had the feeling that someone dislikes to you? You’ve done nothing to them, they don’t know you, you haven’t spoken to them but you can sense it.
That’s what was going on here. There was this guy who gave off a vibe that told me I was not going onto his Christmas card list. To top that off, he was a priest.
I guess they CAN sense evil.
For whatever reason the hostess brings the guy over. I stand and offer my hand which he surveyed as if it was holding a subpoena. I stand in silence for a moment. After my ‘nice to meet you’ lie I have nowhere to go so sit back down.
My ass hits the seat when he asks if I am a catholic. I say I was raised catholic but the nicest thing you could say about me is I’m lapsed. I have about sixteen other not as nice things to call me but, not wanting to converse, let’s stick there.
Unfortunately, that’s wasn’t his thinking. He starts in so abruptly the hostess was shaken back. During a lull in his attack she leans in and tries to explain his behavior by telling me he’s ‘in his cups.’ I wonder what the penance is for punching a drunk priest? Two Hail Mary’s and a night of bingo calling?
A couple of guys come over and try to redirect him but he goes on that it’s people like me who’ve ‘turned their back on the church’ (there are many things I’d do to the catholic church but turn my back on it isn’t one of them) that’s lead to this moral collapse.
All that was fine. Then he got personal. But, again, I let it slide. Not out of respect for the uniform but for the dumbstruck hostess. He’s running out of steam so the two guys being leading him to the door but can’t help but get one last shot in,
“When you are in hell you will remember my words.” He spun dramatically to give his final words flourish and began descending the staircase.
I actually feel a little bad for him. He really thinks I’m an asshole. Maybe I should do something nice for him. A little something so he doesn’t question his judgement. Being a good guy, almost saintly, really. So I call out to him,
“Yeah, you’d better go. Those kids aren’t going to molest themselves.”